


employee of the month

by orphan_account



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, bec im a whore !, pwp !
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 19:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: zhengting is hot and works at zara. yanchen is hot and shops at zara.





	employee of the month

**Author's Note:**

> [!! LOOK AT THIS BEFORE/WHILE READING WHORE !!](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DexM933VMAAWNt2.jpg) enjoy whore .

zhou yanchen. zhengting has swiped his card enough times to know his name, has worked in the local zara long enough to know when he comes and how long he stays, has assisted him enough times to know exactly what kinds of clothes he wants. he thinks that maybe it's this attentiveness and his  keen sense of style that makes yanchen call for him everytime he comes in.

still, familiarity isn't friendship. and a customer isn't a friend. and a crush on a customer isn't anything but a secret. and no matter how many smiling, laughing, smirking conversations they've had about leather and lace and the weather and yanchen's dog, a border collie named baobao, zhengting reminds himself that this is professional. strictly professional.

not that being caught staring at a customer's biceps four times is entirely professional, but still.

"sir, i have th—" zhengting is standing outside yanchen's dressing room, assorted styles of black pants hanging on his finger, when yanchen's head pops out from behind the curtain and startles him half to death.

sadist that zhengting guesses he is—not that zhengting has put too much thought into what yanchen would be into, haha, of course not, totally not—yanchen laughs.

" _jungjung_ ," he addresses him by a _petname_ that came out of their last meeting, when yanchen spent about two hours trying on every peach-colored shirt they had, and passed the time by talking about his recent month-long trip to south korea. yanchen, as it turns out, is fluent in korean, and he was generous enough to give zhengting his korean name:  _jungjung_. "call me yanchen," he says, smiling, taking the pants from zhengting and disappearing again.

zhengting stands in his spot patiently, quietly loosening his tie because 1. knowing that the only thing separating him and what looked like a very shirtless yanchen is a heavy curtain tires his airways to the point of collapse and 2. his spine _tingles_ whenever yanchen calls him... by _that_ name.

"jungjung," yanchen calls again. zhengting's spine tingles again.

"yes, s— yanchen?"

"can you come in here for a sec?"

"uh..."

yanchen pulls the curtain halfway open, "i need a second opinion."

zhengting nods and steps in. "sure," he swallows, finding himself looking at yanchen through the large mirror. and zhengting doesn't know how any real human can look that good in plain black jeans, plainer blue sweater, and infinitely plainer black shoes, but yanchen does it effortlessly.

zhengting swallows again so he won't stutter, mouth completely dry and lips almost cracking when he smiles.

"... hm..." he tilts his head at yanchen's reflection, reminding himself that he's _doing his job_ not _mindlessly ogling a hot guy_. haha. of course not. totally not.

"hm?" yanchen raises an eyebrow. simultaneously, zhengting regrets looking up to see his face and feels an overwhelming need to drop onto his knees.

"i think pink would look better with your skin tone," zhengting says, surprisingly coherent. habit forged from months of employee training makes him turn to his client and lift the hem just slightly to get a better look at the color and the fabric. he doesn't think about how awkward it can be until he has done it, noticing too late that he's standing just a little too close and lifting a little too much of the shirt. stupidly, he looks up at yanchen and blinks wide, brown, innocent bambi eyes at him. eye contact magnifies the proximity, and zhengting lets go of the fabric and steps away as gracefully as a guy who feels as if he just put his hand palm first into an open fire can.

"i'llberightback," he says too quickly to sound natural, forcing his feet to a fast-walk so he won't look _entirely_ weird.

he returns only moments later with gray pants and a pink version of the sweater on yanchen's body.

"try these on," zhengting smiles helpfully, handing the clothes over. he's just about to step away and close the curtain when yanchen wraps a very firm hand around his tiny wrist, tugs him in place and pulls the curtain closed himself.

for the first five seconds, zhengting is too busy being in shock and forcing all the blood back up to his brain to react. when he can finally feel his teeth again, the first thing he does is chuckle nervously.

halfheartedly he jabs a thumb at the general direction of the exit of the dressing room, "i should really—"

"it's alright," yanchen cuts him off, and zhengting thinks the dim lights might be playing tricks on him when he sees a smirk flutter across yanchen's lips. "i don't mind."

and zhengting doesn't mind, either. and he hates that that's his first reaction—employee of the month that he is, he _knows_ he should be concerned about rules and policies and keeping his fucking job. not that the store is ever really crowded, not that anyone really comes in and not that anyone can see through the curtains. but he _knows_ that he should be worrying about his manager, or his two-coworkers, or the hundred other things that can and will go wrong if someone finds him in a customer's dressing room.

but he also knows that yanchen wants him to be there, and yanchen is so fucking hot, and _god—_ zhengting has wanted yanchen since the day he walked in carrying a gucci shopping bag, and checked out an expensive leather jacket, whose price he didn't even _glance_ at, with a black AmEx.

so, he puts his better judgment on mute and swallows dryly. he realizes too late that yanchen is already halfway out of his shirt. politely—halfheartedly—he turns his head to the side. yanchen must have seen him do this in the mirror because he laughs.

"it's alright," he says again, and zhengting doesn't know if it's the lack of oxygen in his head or reality that makes yanchen's voice sound a whole octave lower. "you can look."

and it's how dangerous yanchen sounds when he says it that makes zhengting obey.

he screws his head back on straight and watches yanchen change out of a blue sweater and into the pink one he had brought over. all perfect sculpted body and perfect tan skin, and muscles dipping and pulling at all the right places, and dimples burrowing into his lower back just right above the waistband of his jeans. zhengting feels faint, and has to readjust his tie to see if his head is still attached to his body.

"too tight?" yanchen asks.

zhengting blinks, surveys the fit of the sweater, and shakes his head. "no, no. it fits perfect."

but suddenly, yanchen is standing too close. and zhengting finds his eyes following the movement of yanchen's hands.

"i meant your tie," yanchen tells him, reaching up to loosen zhengting's thin, black necktie—in one swift, bold move, he pulls it off of his neck completely.

zhengting is frozen in shock for all of a moment, before he realizes what just happened. it's the pretty brown eyes that blink up at him that make yanchen break. not another word more, he takes zhengting's lips in a kiss, holding him closer with hands on his face. yanchen tilts his head and kisses him deeper, still. and zhengting, entirely lost in the moment, he kisses yanchen back with a kind of nervous urgency. leaning his body against him, lips all sweet and hungry.

and yanchen, he reads the room well. holding zhengting closer, kissing him more and more and more, for as long as he can, until his lungs begin to burn. the pull away finds soft, heavy panting, chests rising and falling, all wrapped up in each other and trying to keep their balance. all awash in the suddenness of the bottleneck bursting, all bodies warm and hearts thumping and wanting _more_.

zhengting swallows, lips swollen red. his eyes flutter downwards, fingers gripping at yanchen's shirt. "those jeans don't really go with this shirt..." he says softly.

yanchen can't resist the urge to kiss the cute employee boy again, so he kisses him again, for a long time again, until zhengting has to fight off noises that might give them away. until zhengting is whimpering as quietly as he can into yanchen's mouth, then yanchen stops to grin. "yeah?"

"y-yeah," zhengting stutters, already getting on his knees and undoing buttons and zipper with excited fingers.

yanchen is a little past half-hard when zhengting gets to him, not enough patience or courage for foreplay, so zhengting sucks him off until he's hard. multitasking his blazer off of his body and undoing most of his black shirt's buttons. he has to pull the loose sleeves of his shirt up when he starts jacking yanchen off too. stroking with his hand what he can't fit into his mouth, walking the line between slow enough to be quiet and fast enough to finish soon. it's a hard balance to keep, but, as he always does, zhengting does his very, very best.

it pays off, he thinks, when he feels yanchen tugging at fistfuls of his hair. and zhengting feels more than restrained; unable to pull his signature move (a loud, perfectly perfect whiny moan) and drive yanchen crazy, he settles for making him feel better than anyone has ever made him feel.

yanchen comes minutes and minutes later, between bitten lips and pretty brown eyes and zhengting panic-swallowing (and yanchen sharply whispering _fuck_ , and zhengting thinking it's the hottest thing he has ever heard and that it's the best word to ever be invented.) yanchen doesn't have to work much. he sits zhengting down on the bench, and does him off with a hand in his boxers and a mouth to his ear, to his mouth, to his neck and his bones and his chest.

exhausted by the intensity of it all, zhengting still finds the energy to help yanchen into his gray jeans. to sit on his lap, to kiss him some more, and more, and more, and more. he thinks he can kiss yanchen for all of eternity. because yanchen is a very good kisser, and yanchen kisses him like he feels the exact same way.

they kiss for what feels like an eternity too short, before yanchen pulls away, saying time has gotten the best of them.

zhengting finds out too soon that it's  _incredibly_ _difficult—borderline impossible_  to tear himself away from yanchen. and by the way yanchen won't let go of him, he thinks he feels the same way too. but time does get the best of him, and, as if it's the most difficult thing he has ever done, zhengting stops kissing yanchen and gets off of his very comfortable lap.

he clears his throat quietly and licks his lips clean, hurriedly buttoning his shirt with ginger fingers. messing up, undoing to redo.

suddenly, yanchen is standing too close to him again. shooing zhengting's hands away from his shirt buttons to do them himself, kissing him after the top button. tucking his shirt back into his jeans, buckling his belt, tying his tie, kissing him after the knot. kissing him again for a long time, before picking his blazer up off of the floor and helping him back into it.

it's the slow sureness with which yanchen moves that calms zhengting's nerves. before he knows it, he can no longer hear his own heart pumping in his ears. and zhengting is already thinking about how thankful he is to himself for letting his pile of emergency clothes take up half the space of his locker.

"jungjung wanted me that bad," yanchen teases, chuckling, standing so close that his laugh tickles zhengting's cheek. 

still red from adrenaline, and even redder, zhengting looks to the side. biting his lip and smiling shyly, he nods.

yanchen slips something into his back pocket (a sleek black business card that reads, in important gold print, ZHOU YANCHEN, VP / XX-XXX-XXX) kissing his neck and smooching his cheek. "he can have me anytime," yanchen whispers, grinning like the devil. smiling like the sunshine when he pulls away.

"can i wear these out?" he asks like a customer.

zhengting clears his throat and buttons his blazer, collects the clothes on the bench and pulls the curtain back.

"yes. this way to the counter, s— yanchen."

yanchen caresses zhengting's face as he leaves, thumb tracing past his bottom lip, "we'll work on that."

 

**Author's Note:**

> loosely inspired by [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522068#work_endnotes) fic hhh


End file.
